The Bizarreness of Francis Bonnefoy (XReader)
by sile
Summary: Just a little something I brought over from Quizilla. Francis is your new friend. At least he thinks he is and he'll do anything to show his adoration for you.
1. 1: Tu est ma grand amour!

_BZZZZZZZZ_

BZZZZZZZZ

BZZZZZZZZ

You roll over in your bed and pick up your buzzing cellphone from the night stand. You sit up with a yawn, for it was still night, which made you wonder who could be texting you at this hour. You open your phone and the bright light eminating from it made you squint your eyes. A little while later, your eyes adjust and you stare at the phone's screen. This is what it said:

FRANCIS

Bonjour, mon ami! ;) look outside your window

Francis was(keyword: WAS!) your new friend. At least he thought he was. You met him when you moved into your apartment and he's been bugging the hell out of you ever since. You sigh and head over to the window. You didn't really know what to expect. Maybe he was out there with a dozen roses. Maybe he would sing you a song about how happy he was to be your friend, but what you saw was not any of those things. No, it was MUCH grander. You wished you stayed in bed.

You feel yourself grow a little faint when you see what Francis made for you. Down below you, made entirely of roses, was a portrait of you as big as the parking lot of the apartment building. You rubbed your eyes, pinched your arm, and even slapped yourself to make sure you were not dreaming. All you could think of was how were you going to explain this to your land lord.

You felt anger and fear fill you the bim. FRANCIS! You hung over the balcony and tried to spot him, but he was no where to be found. The rose-obsessed coward probably ran away, leaving you with a bunch of roses in the shape of your face. Great. You sighed and headed back to your bed, feeling very worn out, tired(it was the middle of the night), and overall confused. You fell asleep and dreamed of smashing Francis Bonnefoy to a pulp.

You wake up the next morning, your alarm clock screaming at you to get up. You groan in displeasure, tired from lack of sleep(caused by a certain blonde haired soon-to-be CORPSE!). You drag yourself out of bed and head over to the bathroom. You shed your clothes and turn on the water. Half asleep, you stuck your foot under the water.

"AIIIIII!" you screamed, shocked by the black iceness of the water. You wait awile before you stick your foot under again. By that time it was nice and warm. You change the setting to 'shower' and rush under the warm rain, hardly bearing the cold air in your apartment. You shut the shower curtain and stand there for a few minutes in the shower, just letting the warm water shower on top of you. As you were enjoying the shower you hear

"Hallo _!"

You peek your head out from behind the shower curtain to see Francis standing in the doorway of the bathroom smiling a very smug smile.

He said almost innocently,"You didn't have to get undressed just for me, mignon."

You feel a sense of doom wash over you, mixed in with a little disgust. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BATHROOM!?"

"Well, you weren't in the other room, so I looked for you." he said cooly.

Your teeth clenched in anger. "No! I mean HOW did YOU get the key to MY APARTMENT?!"

"Who said anything about having a key?" he leaned against the door frame. "I came through the balcony. More romantic, no?"

"NO! NOT ROMANTIC!" you scream,"GET OUT!"

After you saw that Francis was out of the bathroom, you closed the shower curtain and finished up your shower so you could hurry up and lecture him.

Once you got out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around you. You wished you could change into your clothes, but they were all outside in the main room. You sighed and headed out. When you arrived, Francis was sprawled out on the couch, his arms hanging over the back. A shocked expression came across his face when you walked into the room, but then fell to a satisfied smirk. You clenched your teeth, mad at yourself for blushing.

"Why exactly," you growl,"did you think it was a good idea to sneek into my apartment, without me knowing, after you pulled that stunt last night?"

He shrugged. "I thought we could spend the day together."

"I have work!" you exclamed,"YOU have work! Why aren't you at work?"

He shrugged again. "I asked to have the day off..." he paused and then said in a slow voice,"so I could spend it with you."

You looked away and muttered,"So you thought that I'd just take the day off with you, just out of the blue." You turn back to him. "Get out."

"But-" He tried.

"I said get out. And don't come back." You head over to the door and open it, motioning outside.

He stared at you a momment and then bowed his head in defeat. He trudged through the door and out of your life. At least, that's what you hoped.

It was several weeks before you heard from Francis again. You had thought you had finally got it through his hard skull that you didn't like him. He was stupider than you had previously thought.

It was a rainy afternoon and you were driving home after a long day at work. It was quiet, exept for the drops of water continuosly hitting your window and the muffled sound of car horns. A miriad of rain drops hit your window and the lights eminating from the cars around you reflected off the rain like a fountain you once saw in a hotel lobby. The cars moved an inch every three minutes, it seemed, making you wonder if there was a car crash. You turned on the radio and turned it to your favorite station. The host was talking and talking with some famous person while you waited for them to go to the traffic report.

The host said, "Now it's time for a shout out from... what's your name, son?"

"Francis. Francis Bonnefoy."

Everything stopped. The color drained from your face, your jaw slacked, your grip on the steering wheel tensed, and you stared at the radio in awe and disbelief.

"So, who do you want to give a shout out to?" The host asked, completely unaware of the terrible feeling that was welling up in one of his listeners.

There was a slight pause until Francis spoke,"I want to say sorry to a dear friend of mine... ma chêri. Tu est ma grand amour!"

You, of course, did not understand a word of what he said because a) you were in shock and b) you did not speak french. When you got home you made sure to look up what that meant. You rushed over to your laptop and opened up the internet browser. The rain pownded on the roof like a marching band before a high school foot ball game. You typed in "what does tu est ma grand amour" and pressed enter. You waited paitiently for the screen to load, adrenaline and worry filling you to the brim. The lights flickered slightly, their light not ever reaching the dark blue mass outside your window. As the elements raged, so did your emotions. What could it possibly men, you thought. Could it mean I'm sorry? What was the word for I'm sorry? Thank you was merci...

The screen loaded completely. Your face grew hot and your stomche felt like it had butterlies fliting around inside of you. On the screen, at the top of the page in big letters, it said

**_You are my love._**


	2. 2: Les dieux n'existent pas

You stared at the screen, totally and utterly flabbergasted. All this time you had thought you were just "friends"(more of a one sided friendship, really), but now... you didn't know what to think. You brang your knees to your face and let out a great big sigh. Has he always felt this way, you thought? Is this just a joke or something I shouldn't take seriously? You did not know.

You thought back to the day you first met Francis Bonnefoy. You had just moved into your apartment and you were looking for something fun to do. You head outside and head over the the railing. In a word, it was beautiful. Many shades of green and brown completely covered the rolling hills in the distance. The sky was light blue with misty white clouds splattered about in a random fashion, making magnificant sculptures in the sky. You sigh awesomely.

"Enjoying the view, mademoiselle?"

You turned your head to see a man standing beside you lounging on the railing holding a bouquet of red roses. He had dark blue eyes and long golden hair with a light stuble on his chin. He smiled the smile of a man who knew he was "all that". To tell the truth, you thought he looked like a god.

You laughed as you said, "Yes, it is."

He leaned back up and took his hand through his hair.

"I can understand." He murmured, "It makes me wish I lived here!" He chuckled.

"You don't?" You asked.

He turned back to you and replied, "Non, I am only delivering flowers to a lady who lives over there." He motioned down the hall with his hand.

"Oh." You didn't exactly know what to say to that. For a while, niether of you said anything. Just stared out at the hills.

Francis then picked a bright crimson rose from the bouquet and held it out to you. "Here." he said softly.

You stare down at it and blush. You stutter, "I-I can't take this..."

He smiled charmingly at you. "It's no problem." He said, "Just something to remember me by." He winked.

He then turned around and called over his shoulder, "I have to leave now, mignon." He winked again. "Au revoir."

You woke up the next day to find that you had fallen asleep at your computer and had keyboard face. Usually you'd heave a large sigh and be grumpy the whole morning, but the events of the day before were still on your brain. Does he really love me you, you think embarassedly. You shook your head, trying to make sense of it all, but you kept on coming back to the question. To others, it may have seemed very obvious that he loved you, but you... well, it may be better to explain what happened the days after you met Francis Bonnefoy.

It was a few weeks before you saw him again. You had treasured the rose and made sure it got enough sunlight and water, but it simply did not last. It had wilted and turned brown, and then drooped down in death. You sighed sadly as you threw the once beautiful rose away. You wanted to see HIM again. You wanted to know his name and buy his flowers. Maybe ask him out for dinner. You laughed at the thought. ME asking a guy like THAT out! Please! You desperately wished inside, though, that you could know him.

One day, you decided to go on a walk. You had a day off at work and the sun was shining brightly down. The breeze russled the trees and made their leaves sparkle. It was days like this that made life worth living. Something caught your eye as you were walking, though. You stopped and turned to see what it was. Across the street was a shop. A flower shop, and in front of that shop was a man with long, blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a smile that knew it was all that. It was HIM, you though happily. You rushed across the street, for there was currently no cars, and arrived at the shop. The man in front of the shop turned and smiled when he saw you.

"Mignon!" he cooed happily, "Nice to see you. How are you?"

"I'm fine amd you?" you asked.

He retorted with a laugh, "Working." You laughed too, mostly out of giddy embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name."

"Oh! I'm _." you tell him.

"I am Francis. Francis Bonnefoy." He smiled and asked, "May I interest you in some french tulips? They're half off! Today only."

You giggle. "No thank you." You look around, trying to spot a specific flower. "I was actually looking for those roses I saw you with last time. The one you gave me was so beautiful."

"Oh, yes! Those." He turned to look for them in the front of the shop, but had no luck. "Let me look in the back." He said. You waited until he came back. You took in a deep breath of air. Many sweet fragrances hit your nose, creating a synphony of smell. Francis then returned with a bouquet of red roses wrapped in brown paper tied off with a crimson red bow. He gave them to you and smiled.

You brought them up to your face and smelled their gorgeous, intoxicating scent. "Thank you." you murmured.

He laughed and told you, "Your total is forty-nine dollars."You took out your wallet and paid him. "Merci."

You headed back home on a cloud. From then on, every few weeks you would visite him at the flower shop. You would talk and laugh and buy roses. You came to be their best costumer. One day though, he was not there. There owner was there in his place.

"Hello." you said.

"Hi. What can I do you for?"

"Well," you say worriedly, "I was wondering if Francis was in today."

He chuckled. "Yup. The lady's always are comin' to see him. He's got the best sales out of all three of my employees. Probably 'cause of his looks. He's a handsome feller." He said, still laughing.

"Oh." you make out. All this time you had thought that he liked you, maybe even came to love you, but now you realised it was for profit. He didn't actually like you. You went home that day, a very sad costumer. You never went back to his shop again.

You sighed, remembering how heart brocken you were, and headed over to your bathroom to get ready.

By the time you left your apartment, it was noon. You had spent your Saturday worrying about how you were going to handle the situation and ended up doing nothing at all. Figures. As you closed the door to your apartment you noticed something down at your feet. A bouquet of red roses tied with a bow as red as the roses. You imediatly know who it was from. You sighed and kicked the roses aside. You gave up liking roses a while ago. Just like how you gave up liking Francis, but for some reason the two keep coming back. You headed down the steps and started wander, lost in your thoughts. You kept coming back to the day Francis Bonnefoy apologized.

You were in your apartment, sulking about the information you had just learned. How could use me like that, you thought hurtly. You started at the wilted roses which were in a vase in the middle of the table. You sighed. Just then, you heard a knock at the door. You opened it to see Francis, a small smile on his face and, as always, a bouquet of roses.

"Hallo, mignon." He greeted you softly.

"Um, hi." You looked off to the side. Roses weren't gping to make you feel better. There was a long pause before anyone said anything.

He started, "I... I heard that you came to the shop the other day..."

You mutter, "And?"

"Well," He murmured, "The boss told me what happened... and I'm sorry."

"Sorry for using me or for decieving me?" you retorted coldly to him.

He looked down and replied, "Sorry for making you confused. I... I thought you knew I wasn't exactly serious." He looked back at you. "I never used you, though."

"How can you say you didn't use me? You made me feel-" Francis cut you off.

"I didn't make you feel anything. I was just being friendly and polite. I'm sorry if you thought I was doing otherwise, but that's not my fault." He paused and said quietly, "I never meant for you to think I wanted anything more, though."

"Oh." is all you can make out. For a long time, no one said anything. You stared at the floor and he stared at the roses.

"Can we... still be friends?" he asked sigh sadly. You felt like a jerk for jumping to conclusions. You thought the least you could do was be his friend. You nod your head. His eyes brightened. "Thank you so much! Here." he handed you the roses. "Please come back to the shop sometime." he smiled that gorgeous smile that melt the first day you met him, but now, it was spoiled. He was no god. He was a normal human. Human's are not perfect.


	3. 2: La vie est belle

You stared at the ground as you walked through the streets. Night had fallen not long ago and the street lights buzzed around you. Not many people were out on the side walk and few cars passed you by. Though the misty white clouds covered the sky, the moon's beam still shone down. Crickets chirped near by and windchimes, which hung in someone's window, swayed in breeze making beautiful music. All was still. In a word, it was beautiful. You sighed, wishing that you weren't alone. You continued to walk and walk until suddenly, you heard singing. You looked up to see across the street a burst of color. It took you a minute to realise they were flowers. It took you even longer to realise that this was where Francis Bonnefoy, the man who made your heart flutter, soar, and break, worked and currently was. You couldn't bring yourself to move. You couldn't go into the shop. You coudn't run away. All you could do was stare in awe at the flower shop. Of all the places to wander to. From inside, you could hear him singing. You stood there for... well, a long time. When Francis finally emerged from within the shop, he didn't notice you were standing across the street and continued to do what he was doing. It never crossed your mind why exactly he was at the shop so late, mostly because you didn't care. You were still in shock.

"Je trouve que les robes pastel sont tellement trés charment et les cuirasses large sont trés charment aussi." He sang quietly, examining the flowers. You wondered what he was saying. Unfortunately, you did not bring your computer. He hummed a bit as he admired the flowers. He picked one up and started to sing once more, "désir manger pain français à la tour Eiffel, je tourne et-" he stopped short when he noticed you standing across the street.

"Bonjour, mignon."

You look away and mutter, "What does that mean anyways?"

"It means cute or cutie." he said, clearly hearing you.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" he asked, staring at you sypathetically and spinning the flower he held.

"Nothing's wrong! I'm just a person taking a walk!" you raise your voice.

He retorted, "A person taking a walk alone. At night. Looking forlorn." You couldn't think of anything to say to that. It was true you did feel abandoned. "Come here."

Almost simultaniously, your feet started running toward him, clearly not connected to your brain anymore. Francis opened up his arms and you rushed into them. His body was warm and comforting, but at the same time dangerous. You tried to escape his grasp realising what you'd just done, but he just held onto you.

"Non, not yet. Just a little longer." He whispered. You delt your face grow hot as the two of you stood there in the flower shop in an embrace. It was a minute or so before he let you go. You stared at him, bright red in the face. He stared back at you and counldn't help, but smile. You looked away, which made him laugh. "You really are cute, mignon." He paused, a light shade of pink starting to cross his face. He then said sweetly, "I love that about you."

"Francis-" you started to say, but you were interrupted.

"I do love you. I may have thought of you as a toy at first, but now..." His voice trailed off. You couldn't think of anything to say. You just stood there dumbfounded. You didn't know if you should trust him or not. You wanted to, so badly, but you didn't want your heart to break again.

You stared at your feet and asked quietly, "Really?"

He hugged you and murmured in your ear, "Really, Really." You tentively wrapped your arms around him. You wished this night would never end.

THE END


End file.
